All That I Am
by harlequin44
Summary: Folklore fanfic - What do adult men and women do when they are alone in a room together? - Both humor and drama, as Keats and Ellen both deal w/ what they really are and how they really feel. Future lime, possible lemon.


**A/N:** So, how do you get people to read a fanfiction for which there is no category? Got me... My guess is you have to have an already established fanbase that will read whatever you write no matter the topic because of their love and devotion (aww). Since I dont really have such a thing I wouldnt really be suprised if no one reads this. But that would make me sad...

However, I had to put this story up anyways because I like it, and the ending of Folklore is just begging for fanfiction to be written about it. And I would just like to say, for the record, that it is a crime that there is no Folklore category in the games section.

For those of you who dont know what Folklore is, and are still considering reading this, let me first of all say that I love you, and secondly say that it is a very unique ps3 game about a guy (Keats) and a girl (Ellen) who travel to the netherworld to fight the folklore born from the restless dead and solve the mysteries of the past (shortest explaination ever).

Anyways, this story will prolly only be 3 chapters at the most, and I am thinking I will make it my first attempt at writing lemon/lime content (to what extent depends on how adventurous I feel), so even if you arent that familiar with Folklore it should be enjoyable. :)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Folklore. But that doesn't stop Keats from haunting my dreams... :)

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**All That I Am **

Click. Click. Click click click.

The sound of fingers firmly hitting the keys of a typewriter filled the cluttered office. No other sounds could be heard. And that was just the way he liked it. The sound of the letters striking the paper, the feel of the cool keys against his fingertips, he loved it all. To him, writing was soothing. He might even go as far as to say therapeutic. Just him, his thoughts, and a typewriter.

But, today was different. Today, instead of becoming more and more calm with each click of the typewriter, he was only becoming more agitated. Because today it wasn't just him, his thoughts, and a typewriter. It was him, his thoughts, a typewriter, and a girl.

"Ahem…" he cleared his throat obviously.

No response.

"… Ellen, don't you have somewhere else you should be? I am sure there is a lost soul somewhere in need of saving." His gazed remained fixed on the paper in front of him as he continued typing without missing a beat. But, despite appearances, he had lost his train of thought long ago, and was now writing simply for effect.

He sighed to himself. _Once I get her to leave I'm going to have to rewrite all of this…_

The blond girl gave a warm smile, oblivious to the obvious sarcasm lacing his question. "No. I actually haven't run into may people in need of help lately. The cloak has been getting a lot less use since I left Doolin."

"What a pity. It was such a good look for you."

Ellen knew better than to take that as a serious compliment, but she still couldn't help but blush slightly.

"… But this way I have more time to come see you, Keats."

"Speaking of 'coming to see me,' why do you do it? Its not like there is anything to do here besides distract me from my work and make tea."

She had come to visit him several times since they had both left Doolin. It had surprised him at first; since he had thought her first goodbye had meant 'goodbye forever' and not just 'goodbye until next week'. But he had gotten used to it. He just still had no idea why she came. They lived in different worlds. Literally. She could go anywhere and do anything. While his whole world was this office. His whole life was…

_Wait, can I even say that anymore? How much of me is alive and how much of me is just a memory?_

He shook his head. No. He didn't want to know. It didn't matter. All that mattered was his work. He forced the thoughts from his mind like he had done so many times before.

"Because…" Ellen's break in the silence startled him from his thoughts. "I wanted to see you… Isn't that enough?"

Keats looked up from his typewriter for the first time since she had sat down. Their eyes met for a moment before Ellen quickly broke the gaze by looking down at her lap.

…_Is she embarrassed? If anyone should be embarrassed it should be me. I'm the one who has to listen to her ridiculous comments. _

Keats sighed to himself. "But in all seriousness, Ellen. I need to—"

"Oh! I should go get the tea!" Ellen jumped up and ran over to the tiny kitchenette before he could finish.

* * *

Ellen absentmindedly took the pot off the stove and stared blankly at the two empty cups on the counter.

_What am I doing? Keats is right. There is no reason for me to be here… All I am doing is bothering him… _She reached for the teapot to continue with her original purpose for entering the kitchen. _But when I think about never seeing him again I—_

"Ouch!" She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she missed the handle of the teapot and touched the hot metal side instead. She cradled her burned index finger with her other hand as she looked down at the still empty cups.

_I am such an idiot…_

"What happened?"

Ellen jumped. Not so much at the fact that Keats had responded to her pained yelp, but because his response had come from directly behind her. His deep voice echoed in her ears.

She spun around to see that he was not only behind her, but he was **close** behind her. Ellen blushed and looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

"I-I, um, just burned myself a little on the teapot. It's nothing really."

_I'm fine so step away, please._ They weren't close enough to actually be touching, but Ellen could still feel the heat from his body. She clamped her eyes shut. She felt as if his warmth would melt her.

Suddenly, Ellen felt a hand firmly grab her own injured one, pulling it from her grasp.

"Wha—"

"You need to run it under cold water until the pain stops." Keats turned on the nearby sink and stuck her finger under the water.

"No, really, you don't need to worry! I'm fine!"

"Does it still hurt?" His eyes stared sternly into her's, and, for reasons she didn't understand, she suddenly found it harder to breath.

"A-A little…"

"Well then."

They both stood in silence, making the sound of the running water the only noise to be heard. Ellen stared at Keats' hand, which was still firmly gripping her own, as if it was necessary to keep her from disobeying his orders.

_Its almost like he really cares…_ Ellen thought of how quickly he had reacted to her pained yelp earlier. Not only had he actually gotten up from his desk, but he had been at her side almost instantaneously. She looked over at his face to see his eyes still fixated on her finger. His expression was emotionless making it impossible to read, but…

_To have reacted so quickly… he must have been seriously worried._

She felt herself smile uncontrollably in reaction to the warmth that filled her chest.

"Thank you."

Keats jumped a bit and finally looked away from her hand to meet her gaze.

"Your always there to rescue me."

Keats stared at her silently for a few moments before smirking and looking back down at the water. "I hardly think you can call this coming to your rescue."

"Well, maybe, but whenever I need it, you always seem to be there to help me."

"You do seem to have a knack for getting into bad situations when nobody is looking."

Ellen frowned slightly. "You make me sound like a child that needs to be looked after."

"I suppose so."

Ellen suddenly felt a sharp pain in her chest. "Is that really how you think of me?" She whispered, more to herself then him.

"Huh?"

She yanked her hand from his grasp leaving Keats even more confused. She held it close to her chest in attempt to stifle the growing pain inside. She looked up at him sharply.

"Why do you always treat me like I am just a bothersome little girl. I'm 22 you know. We're practically the same age!" She had to admit even she was taken aback by her sudden outburst. She rarely showed anger or frustration, even if she felt it. But now she seemed to be unable to suppress either. It just bothered her. Was that all he saw her as: a silly child?

Keats studied her for a few moments before turning off the water. To her surprise, his next move was to take as step towards her. In response she took a step back only to be stopped by the wall behind her. He took another step forward, leaving him only inches away. He placed his hands on either side of the wall behind, his eyes boring into her's. She was trapped.

"So you want me to treat you like an adult, huh? Well then, you should know what **adult** men and women do when they are alone together."

Ellen felt her brain overload, and she was sure she must have turned a million shades of pink. She was about to push him away embarrassed, but froze. This **was** a trap. Not just physically but mentally. Keats wasn't the type to make advances on a girl just cause they were alone together. In fact, he wasn't the type to make advances, period. He was trapping her. He knew her automatic reaction would be to yell and push him away, proving that he had been right, and that she was still just a child. Well, like hell she was going to let him win this mental battle.

She swallowed hard. "Your right."

"What?" Keats' cocky smirk was replaced by complete shock.

"Oh? Were you not serious?" She tried to keep her voice as nonchalant as possible, but not only could she feel her heart pounding, she could hear it. She just prayed he couldn't hear it as well.

Keat's eyes stared into her own, searching for any sign of weakness. She was so focused on appearing serious that she failed to notice Keat's bring his hand to the side of her face. He lightly brushed her cheek with his fingers, sending a sudden shock though her entire body. However, she stood her ground and fought the urge to admit to her bluff.

She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, preparing herself for his next move. She soon realized shutting her eyes had the unintended affect of heightening her other senses. Since she had first met him, she had never once thought that Keats was capable of doing anything gently. Whether it was the way he acted, or the way he spoke, everything he did was harsh. But as his hand made its way from her cheek down to her chin, she could think of no other way of describing his touch.

She felt herself becoming lightheaded, as his caress slowly moved under her chin and down her neck, only to make its way back up again. He had no destination, no purpose, he was touching her simply to touch her, and that was making her head spin.

Gradually, the sound of his breath became louder.

_H-He's leaning in! Is he really going to kiss me?! I should stop him quick before this goes too far, right? I mean, I am only doing this to prove a point. I don't actually want him to kiss me… Right?_

But she did nothing. She just held her breath and waited. Waited for…

_… Laughter?_

Ellen opened her eyes to see Keats had stepped away from her, and was now chuckling uncontrollably. Ellen could do nothing but stare at him dumbfounded. Finally, his laugher stopped as he cleared his throat.

"Ah, Ellen, you are nothing if not entertaining," He looked back towards her, and chucked a few more seconds before turning to head back to his desk. "You really are a child."

Ellen blinked a few times at the empty space in front of her. She should have been upset at his child comment. And even more so at the fact that, despite him being the one to back down, it still somehow felt like she had lost their battle. But she was too busy being confused. Not at Keats, but at herself. She could still feel her heart racing, still feel the warm breath from his lips mixing with her own.

_Why didn't I stop him? Even if it was because I was too scared to move, then I should be happy that he at least stopped himself. So why don't I feel relieved? This feeling… it's almost like I am… disappointed?_ She touched her lips lightly.

_Did I want him to kiss me?_

"Ellen?" Keats had been about to sit down, but had stopped when he noticed Ellen had not moved from her spot on the kitchen wall. "Are you ok?"

"Huh?" Ellen snapped out of her stupor. "Y-Yea, I'm fine!"

She needed to leave, and fast. The last thing she needed right now was for Keats to read her emotions yet again.

"I-I just need to go now, but I'll be back later."

"Um, that's ok. You really don't need to—" But before Keats could finish his protest, Ellen was out the door. And he was once again left alone, with nothing but his thoughts, and a typewriter.

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A/N: Thanks for reading!! If you are kind enough to leave a review I will be beyond ecstatic!! 


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